


You're No Good For Me (and yet we do it anyway)

by anamatics



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Dominance, F/F, Post Season/Series 03, Riding Crop, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's always found embracing pain easy.  Perhaps it is her addiction to the pain, the sweet embrace of a lover who knows how best to rule a moment, that drives her to this decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're No Good For Me (and yet we do it anyway)

We both know just what we’re here for  
Safe to do many times

-Lana Del Rey - Diet Mt. Dew

 

She's always found embracing pain easy. She revels in it, she knows this when she's frank with herself. She's embraced the pain of Christina's death for over a century and still it plagues her. It is the pain that keeps her sane, for to accept the pain as anything other than a dear old friend would drive her past the point of the madness that already sings at the edge of her psyche. 

Helena Wells has always been rather pragmatic about the state of her mind. She knows exactly how close she is to the edge at any given moment; right now she's teetering dangerously.

Perhaps it is her addiction to the pain, the sweet embrace of a lover who knows how best to rule a moment, that drives her to this decision. 

It begins innocently enough. A flirtation over wayfaring artifacts, Helena not exactly respecting personal space and her advances not exactly being spurned. She's daring, steps in too close, and finds a hand wrapped authoritatively around her neck, choking the life out of her. It's then that she knows, and it's then that the games really begin.

She likes it hard and fast and dirty. She's had her lover pressed up against the wall of a dingy motel room in Univille, South Dakota more times than she cares to count. She's had her all over the world and then more. Pressing languidly up against her back deep in the Warehouse's stacks, she's had her then too. 

And then she betrays that trust that she's built because the madness got to be too much.

She's given a chance to come back, and she makes the best of it. Their flirtation has all but stopped, and the control that Helena so desperately craves is gone. Myka wants it more than her, Helena's always known that. She sees how regimented Myka has become in her routines and knows that it must be unbearable for her. She has to do something; it is the right thing to do. 

It begins, this time, far from innocently. Helena does her research, reads about the device that took her freedom away at the hands of Sykes, so soon after she'd found herself again. She reads about the man who controlled that crop and gave it its artifact capacity. She knows that its downside will only draw out what she wants from Myka - and she sets her plan in motion. 

Helena flashes skin and feels the grips of madness at the corner of her mind. She lets her touches linger as Myka follows her deeper and deeper into the Warehouse. They stop before deMille's riding crop and Helena raises a questioning eyebrow. "I've always loved crops," she whispers low. She knows her voice sounds enticing, it's her intent. Myka's cheeks are flushed as Helena runs calm fingers over the expanse of skin that she's left deliberately visible in the lack of buttons she's done up on her shirt. "Their caress is like a lover's," she goes on, eyes shining with intent that Myka clearly reads. "Two halves of the same coin," she murmurs, "Pleasure and pain."

Myka appears quite flabbergasted and Helena smirks. She tucks a neatly folded static bag under the crop. The look that she shares with Myka is meaningful as she brushes past her, "You know where."

Where is a room that they'd discovered quite by accident. It's a storage closet of some sort. Myka had called it the Warehouse's Room of Requirement - which was a strange reference that Helena didn't understand. Myka had explained that it was a room that gave you what you needed, when you needed it - a room that was hidden from intruders unless they knew what they were looking for. 

Inside there's a bed - always a bed. Two glasses on low table and a bottle of good old scotch that Helena found at the bottom of the desk that they'd rescued from the Warehouse's perfectly preserved copy of her room from Warehouse Twelve. 

She pours herself a glass of the scotch and sips at it, standing at the far corner of the room. She needs this now, perhaps more than ever. The madness is creeping back into mind - she knows that Arthur has used some sort of time travel artifact to save the Warehouse, she just doesn’t know what. She wants that artifact, wants it badly, for Christina. To save Christina. To turn back this terrible future she's found herself in.

The scotch burns her lips as she drinks it. She needs this from Myka now. The request did not go unheard.

Myka is there, Helena can feel her presence easily. She lets herself be pulled forward, feels her back slam against the door and Myka's lips are on her own. They are demanding, authoritative, full of the control that Helena so desperately wants. She lets herself be kissed, her fingers pulling at the back of Myka's shirt. They fist in the fabric as Myka slips a firm thigh between her legs and growls as Helena moves to slide her shirt up. 

"No," Myka says, and Helena's hands fall to her sides.

Myka steps back, her expression nigh unreadable. Helena watches her with guarded eyes and Myka turns to pick up a static bag. Helena feels elation grip her, Myka understood what she was asking for, Myka was willing to do it. "What is the downside," she asks.

A wicked grin curls at Helena's lips and she feels her knees grow week. She is going to enjoy this. Shrugging off her jacket and folding it neatly on the end of the bed, she explains, "Absolutely nothing, darling." 

"Do not lie to me," Myka hisses and Helena's grin grows wider.

She sips her scotch, "Nothing that I would not want such an encounter to bring out in you anyway, Myka dear." She sets her glass down on the table and turns. "It brings out the dominance in your personality and actions."

Myka's eyes are shining with intent now, and her expression matches Helena's own. "Take off your clothes," she says, opening the static bag and lifting the artifact that caused them so much misery with her bare hands. Helena's breath catches, looking at Myka as the artifact begins to influence her. She knows that that they should not be doing this, that in doing this they are breaking a million rules that could get her mind ripped from her body once more. Still, it is the madness that drives her to this point. The madness that keeps her here. 

She stands naked save her locket before Myka as Myka swishes deMille's crop around in her hands, getting a feel for it. Her voice is low and dangerous when she whispers, "Get on your knees."

It has been over a century since Helena has done something like this - even longer since she's discussed it with anyone in a meaningful fashion. She knows that she has a predilection for this sort of thing, she knows that Myka revels in it even and that she will never admit it to anyone. Helena has seen it since the beginning; she's been using it to process the madness that plagues her. 

The crop - it hovers before her yes. It fills her vision. Helena leans forward, eyes cast upwards as Myka comes to stand before her, eyes expectant as Helena's lips brush against the worn brown leather.

Myka plays this role so well; eyes hooded and voice low as she runs through a series of questions that Helena scarcely pays attention to. The power of the crop has gripped her now, her lips her undoing as she agrees to the terms of this encounter. 

The crop caresses Helena's cheek and her lips part, looking up at how the dim light in this room catch the curls that frame Myka's face. She is beautiful in this light.

She's held by a power they don't understand. Helena revels in the power of the crop, though she recalls her position with it in Sykes hands. It binds her now, and Myka could make her do anything. The thought thrills her as her hands are held behind her back and her chest is pushed out. Myka likes the power of it too, Helena knows this. She likes the control that it takes from Helena and loves the release it gives her.

Helena doesn't blink as it falls onto her cheek, a sharp sting and then a caress so soft she almost weeps at the relief of it.

Her knees ache, the crop keeps her there, the pressure builds and Helena feels herself start to let go.

"Why do you like this?" Myka asks, her expression hard and closed-off. She drops to her knees before Helena, her lips following the sting of the crop now. The kiss that comes is full of want and need. Her tongue begs entrance, worrying at Helena's bottom lip as her hands cup Helena's chin. Helena gasps at the sensation and sucks pitifully on Myka's tongue as it slips into her mouth. She can do nothing else, she is so painfully aroused. 

Myka's hands dip lower, "What is so broken within you that you let me use you like this?"

Helena cannot say that she is like this because Myka is like this. She's indulging a dark side that they both share. Myka's dark side thrives on control. She whimpers as Myka withdraws, the softness of her fingers is replaced by the cool leather of the crop that has forced her to her knees.

"For you," she whispers and Myka lets the crop fall, soft then sharply painful, upon her breast.

Again and again it falls, and Myka does not speak. She lays the crop down again and again, creating an expanse of red skin and arousal so keen that Helena feels it deeply in her bones. The pain keeps her here, it stops the madness. Helena embraces the pain like a long-lost lover, drawing it inside herself and using it to separate that reality from her own.

Myka's cheeks are flushed, her eyes full of exhilaration as Helena gasps and moans. She has no control over what she does now, her body is Myka's toy to play with and they both know it well. Helena knows that it is Myka's power of their situation that has driven Myka to this high and she wants more.

She ends up pressed down on her back on the bed - her hands held above her head through the force of Myka's dominance and the power of the crop alone. Helena's breath comes in short pants as Myka straddles her, her body pressing down on Helena’s hips and holding her in place. There's a wicked glint in Myka's eye as she leans down. Her fingers find Helena's nipple and tweak it harshly, almost painfully as she whispers, "Do you want me to own you completely?"

She sits up and pets the crop rest low on Helena's stomach. 

Helena's breath catch and she whimpers low, the madness presses against her mind and she feels herself nodding. Myka's smile comes wickedly then and she slides her body back. The crop that holds her dips still lower, and Helena hisses as soft, cruel leather trails through the arousal that she has fought so hard to keep under control. It won't do to have this illusion die before it can truly begin. 

Her stomach clenches and her breath comes in short pants as Myka draws the crop back. The lick cuts into her skin, right where she needs it most and Helena's head falls back, her eyes wide in a silent scream. 

It comes again, and Helena's vision is white. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she feels like she's drowning in sensation, her body completely focused on the high that Myka has taken her to. 

She's close, oh so close when Myka pauses. Her expression twists upwards into that of glee as Helena forces her eyes open and groans loudly in frustration. "Please," she begs, and Myka bends to kiss her on the nose.

Myka's fingers feel long and as cruel as the crop that is pressing against her throat replace the constant lick of pain on her most sensitive place. They curl inside of her, harsh and unrelenting. They press into her again and again, driving her to a high Helena didn't know possible. The crop is cutting off her air and she is gasping, mewling pitifully as Myka presses hot, open mouthed kissed on the dip of her collarbone. 

The lack of air and the constant assault of Myka’s fingers and tongue is enough to drive Helena to close her eyes and ask again for release. 

The fingers inside her twist and the palm of Myka's hand grinds against her. Helena comes in a silent scream, Myka's lips curling into a self-satisfied smile as she languidly pushes her fingers in and out of Helena as her body still shakes with orgasm. She doesn't relent until there are grateful tears prickling at the corners of Helena’s eyes. 

Myka's smile deepens then and her body shifts, dragging her still-clothed form away from Helena. She rises and drops the crop back into the static bag, ducking as it sparks. "You're beautiful," she whispers, her voice sounds unsure.

Helena's body relaxes and her mind finally catches up with what has happened. Myka still has her clothes on, which is entirely unacceptable. She rises from the bed and steps towards Myka. Her lips find Myka's and she drops to her knees a moment later, fumbling for Myka's belt. She can barely control herself, shoving down Myka's trousers and undergarments. 

She's submitted and now it is time to express her gratitude. She's played these power games enough to know how it works. 

Her mouth connects with hot wet heat. Myka, her final salvation, Myka her long-lost lover, Myka her final salvation. 

She cannot explain their connection, but as her tongue curls deep inside Myka and Myka's hands tangle in her hair, Helena is fairly certain she does not have to. She sucks and nips and swirls her tongue until it is not Myka's name, but rather her own, that is gasped out in pleasure. 

Payback, she reasons as Myka pulls her back towards the bed in their little Room of Requirement, is quite a fantastic game.


End file.
